


Coffee Flavored Kisses

by three_cheers_for_sweet_frerard



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Top!Frank, bottom!Gerard, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/three_cheers_for_sweet_frerard/pseuds/three_cheers_for_sweet_frerard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank knows this boy.<br/>Okay, so ‘knows’ is too strong - he goes to the same coffee shop as this boy, and maybe Frank stares at him just a little too much. A lot. Frank stares at this boy a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Flavored Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, a Coffee Shop AU, how original of me...  
> But this was meant to be just one thousand words and then it turned into this. Basically it's a lot of mild-ish angst and then cutesy stuffs at the end.

Frank knows this boy.

Okay, so ‘knows’ is too strong - he goes to the same coffee shop as this boy, and maybe Frank stares at him just a little too much. A lot. Frank stares at this boy a lot.

Sometimes he’s got a comic book with him, and is either absentmindedly flicking through the pages or looking full-on engrossed, but other days he just stares into space, his eyes a wandering hazel. A few times a week their eyes will meet, brown against a deeper shade of the same colour, and then flicker away, embarrassed, in a sort of calculated yet fluttering dance.

He always orders a medium latte with what must be far too much sugar, and always sits at the same table towards the back, and always wears the same pair of battered white converse.

And for whatever reason, Frank thinks he’s stunning.

“Why are you staring at that guy?”

Frank flushes. “What guy?” he manages to stammer, but Pete sees through him like he’s a window.

“You know which guy. The cute one. You’ve been looking at him for the past half hour when you could have been talking to me and I’m actually personally offended,” Pete says, mocking him.

“You’re the one who’s actively admitted to thinking he’s cute. You should totally ask him out,” he replies far too quickly.

“Nah. Not really my type.”

“Pete, your type is literally just ‘male’. And besides, it’s not like I’m going to ask a stranger out, I’m not nearly as confident as you.”  
“So you do like him!” says Pete, triumphant and sounding like a twelve year old at a Valentines Disco.

“I don’t even know his name. I agree, it’s fair to say that I’m physically attracted to him. But do I like him? No. There’s a ninety five per cent chance that he’s straight, anyway. I haven’t a hope in the world.”  
“Straight? Him? Really? Look at those jeans, they’re far too tight for a straight guy to be wearing. Although I suppose you’ve already noticed the jeans…”

“Stereotyping of the LGBTQ community is annoying at best and extremely harmful at worst,” Frank quotes.

“I doubt me assessing his jeans is extremely harmful.”  
“Yes, but it is annoying. And would you stop? This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“Neither is staring at him.” Pete sighed. “Wait here. I’ll introduce you.”

“Pete - ” Frank internally facepalms. “Pete, no…” It was too late. His friend had already walked coolly over to the cute guy’s table.

“Excuse me?”

The cute guy turns round and his hair sort of flicks around him. It’s adorable. “What?”

“I found these keys on the floor and wondered if they might be yours. They’ve got the name Pete on them?” Pete produces his own car keys from his back pocket. “Well, my name’s Pete, but they’re not my keys.”

“Oh. No, they’re not mine.”  
“Never mind, I’ll hand them in to the staff later on. Did I introduce you to my friend Frank? This is Frank.” Pete beckons for him to come over. “Frank, this is…”  
The cute guy looks somewhat perplexed, but goes with it. “Gerard. Hey.”

“Oh! Hey, um, Gerard. I’ve never met anyone called that before.”

“I know, it’s literally the worst. I can’t really come up with any nicknames... But Frank’s a cool name. Is it short for anything?”

“Nope. My full name is Frank Anthony Iero Junior, though, which is obviously a bit of a mouthful.” Frank looks around to find that Pete has completely vanished. Fuck. What was he supposed to do?

“Hey, Frankie, where did your friend go?”

“Oh. I’m not sure. Well, I should probably be going… I have, um a doctor’s appointment for my leg… I’ve injured my leg… okaythenI’llseeyoubye,” Frank blurts before nervously leaving.

Blown it. Gerard probably thought he was weird as fuck now.

Twenty minutes since he left the coffee shop, and he realizes that he’s left his hoodie in there, but is far too embarrassed to go back for it, seeing as Gerard would probably still be there. Fuck. Why did he have to be so stupid?

Frank begins to avoid the café, which is hell at first because he really likes the coffee there. Over the week it gets easier; at least he's managed to avoid Gerard, who he's two hundred percent sure he never wants to see, or even just think about, ever again. But because he's stupidly romantic, he can't go a day without thinking about Gerard. When it rains, he walks past the coffee shop with his umbrella covering his face and sometimes he'll spot Gerard in there, who will glance at him but, Frank hopes, not recognise him from their first ever - and last ever - meeting. Gerard is always alone, but never lonely. His eyes drift into nowhere like nowhere is a masterpiece. A few times, he brings a sketchpad and nonchalantly sketches a few of the people around him. Frank wishes he could be alone in the contented, resigned state that Gerard is, instead of wishing he wasn't and never having gone on a proper second date.

Gerard is always alone, until the day when he's not.

Frank is doing his thing where he walks past and pretends he's checking himself out in the shop window when really he's checking Gerard out. He sees someone else at Gerard’s usual table. That isn't unusual; what's unusual is that Gerard is there too. He's smiling so brightly that the rest of the world probably needs sunglasses and she's laughing at something he's said and it's physically, physically painful...

Gerard is on a date. Gerard is straight. Gerard has most likely forgotten that Frank exists.

For some bizarre reason, this is what propels him to pause for a moment, and then swing open the coffee shop door, the warmth welcoming and familiar.

She is laughing, her jet black hair cascading effortlessly down one shoulder, the shade matching his exactly. His eyes are shining whenever he looks at her. Which is all the time. He clearly can’t keep his eyes off her. Even the way she stirs her fucking tea is beautiful. Fuck.

Frank keeps his head down and pulls his hoodie up, mumbling that he wants a medium latte and then picking the seat furthest away from the happy couple as possible, but still watching them. This was hell. Strange as it seemed, Frank had actually never had a crush on a straight boy, and here one hits him full force. He’d never noticed how tiny Gerard’s teeth were. Probably because he’d never seen Gerard smiling as widely as he smiles at her.

And then Gerard stops smiling at her, and he starts smiling at Frank.

“Hey!” he says, and beckons for Frank to come over. Shit, he thinks, shit shit shit - but he comes over anyway. What choice is there? He couldn’t actually go, “Sorry, just found out that you are of an exceedingly common sexual orientation, and am now disappointed, so would rather forget that you exist, thanks, bye.” That would technically - not that it exists, of course - be heterophobia. So he walks over to Gerard, who is still beaming, as is his date. God, why are they both so smiley?

“I haven’t seen you here in a while. How’s your leg?”  
Leg? Leg… He told Gerard that he’d injured his leg. Right.

“Oh, fine,” Frank lies. (Well, it’s actually true, but his leg was always fine to begin with, so it’s sort of a half-lie.) “I just pulled a muscle in it, that’s all.”

“Owch. I’m sorry. Oh hey, you haven’t met Lindsey! Frankie, this is Lindsey. Lindsey, Frankie. Frankie, Lindsey.”

God. Frank has a crush on possibly the dorkiest boy in the whole of the United States. And the Frankie thing was still.. a thing. Great. “Hey, Lindsey,” he manages, forcing a friendly tone.

“Anyway. Um, I just need to go to the bathroom, but.. Be back in two ticks,” Gerard says. Another winning smile and he’s off. Lindsey looks around quickly, scanning for something - for what? - before leaning in and muttering, “Gerard has the biggest crush on you, so don’t be too mean to him. I know you’re straight, but -”

“What??” Frank can hardly believe it. “But - Aren’t you two - I mean?”

“Dating?” Lindsey lets out a hoot of laughter. “Oh god no. I’m not into boys at all, if you catch my drift...”

“Well, I’m one hundred per cent gay too, so I have no idea why you thought I was straight,” Frank says. “And Gerard is as well? Wow. Us gays are multiplying.”

“He was bi the last time I checked. But anyway, we’re missing the point. He’s in love with you and I’m pretty sure that you don’t like him back so don’t humor him if he acts even more dorky than usual.”

“Wait…” Gerard’s walking over to their table again, so they have to stop the conversation and act natural. Gerard likes him? Gerard notices him? This is… whoa.

And Frank can sort of see it. All through the next half an hour, Gerard is stealing glances at him, and he keeps stumbling over his words. It's kind of stupid, but after they've parted ways for the night, Frank feels like clutching his hands over his heart and jumping up and down squeeing. Gosh, today had been a roller coaster of emotion, he thought.

Frank gets a text from him the next day:

hey. would u like to come to see this band that my brother plays in tonight if ur free? ive got a spare ticket and they’re pretty good ! - G

yeah sure dude, sounds awesome!! text me the details

Is this a date? This sure sounds like a date. Although from what he knew of Gerard already, he didn’t seem the type to make the first move. Still, he loved going to see bands, and if it was with Gerard then it was no doubt going to be amazing anyway given what company he would have. He puts on his tightest t shirt and black jeans and washes his hair specially. God, if this went well, he could be making out or even doing more than that with Gerard just that very evening. The thought gives him butterflies.

He doesn’t stop gloating to Pete until the moment he leaves for the gig. “Do I look okay?” he asks.

“You look like dog vomit, but then again you always look like dog vomit, so I can’t really notice a change.”  
“Fuck you, I’m being serious. If you were attracted to me - ” Pete snorts. “If you were attracted to me, which I wholly accept is a ridiculous idea, would you tap that?”

“This whole idea is making me nauseous, but I suppose if I was forced to tap that, then I would tap that. Happy?”

A compliment from Pete is about as common as a blue moon, so Frank’s pretty confident as he turns up and looks for Gerard. Who hasn’t turned up yet and it’s ten minutes before it starts. Frank’s starting to get tetchy. He’s standing by the bar looking generally awkward and lonely - rather like someone who’s just been stood up. Fuck, what if he has been stood up? Oh God, spare him the embarrassment. What if Lindsey and Gerard were just having him on, and Gerard was straight after all, and they were both in hysterics right now at the thought of Frank waiting for him at a show for a band that doesn’t even have Gerard’s brother in it -

“Hey! Frankie! So sorry I’m late, I had to go see my mom.” Gerard sounds apologetic and is breathing heavily - he’s been running. Running to get there to meet Frank. Awh.

“No problem, it’s cool.”

“I was scared you’d think I’d stood you up or something,” Gerard smiles.

“Can I buy you a drink?” This is Frank’s attempt at flirting. It’s still ambiguous as to whether this is a date or not - Gerard putting it as “stood you up” kind of made it sound that way, but if it wasn’t supposed to be, and was just a friendly thing, then this would surpass normal levels of awkward and cross into Extremely Awkward Territory. In Frank’s mind, that was saved for not being able to go on some fairground rides because of his height and thus being humiliated in front of his friends, or spilling water all over his jeans just as his high school enemy Bert McCracken happened to be on the same street (yes, that happened, and it was a very bad memory that he’d rather not recall).

“Coke is fine, I’m sober actually.”

“Oh. Cool.” Frank doesn’t know how to react to that, so there’s an awkward silence. Well, this is going great. One minute in and they already don’t know what to say. Fuck.

The band is really good, though, and they’re really close to the stage because of Gerard being the bassist’s brother, whose name is Mikey and whom Gerard seems really proud of. But mostly he’s just eye fucking Frank and then turning away and acting natural whenever Frank pretends to have only just noticed. Not that Gerard would actually be able to see Frank’s eyes, or anything for that matter - it’s far too dark and the strobe lighting is pretty distracting. Gerard does look really good, though. His raven-black hair looks about as washed as a dog who hates baths, but it works somehow, and he’s got that quiet-meaningful-artsy-goth look down perfect - you know, the type who always has ink-stained hands (quick glance at Gerard’s… check) and wears long black trench coats (check) and can put on eyeliner a lot better than most girls can (check). Luckily Frank’s totally into that sort of thing.

“Hey, Frankie,” Gerard says after the band’s done, “we didn’t get to talk much tonight, but I just… wanted to say that… I mean -”

He doesn’t have time to finish. Frank likes to live by his instincts, and they’re telling him to kiss the fuck out of Gerard, so naturally he does. It’s amazing, mostly because Gerard is an amazing kisser. Frank edges his tongue around the corner of Gerard’s mouth before they both allow each other access, knowing that they’d be getting astonished looks from mothers with two year olds but frankly - ha, frankly - they’re not giving a damn. They pull apart after several minutes, and Frank is smiling wider than he’d ever before and -

He doesn’t see Gerard. Anywhere. The loss of the other man’s warmth pressed against his chest feels alien and numb, and it’s painful.

Seriously. Where could he have gone to? Frank scans the dark hall, but all he can see is people buying concert tees or making out in a similar fashion to how him and Gerard were earlier.

Was he a bad kisser? Was that it? Or had Gerard realised that he was out of Frank’s league? No. Frank wasn't one to flatter himself but apart from the slight height issue, he'd class himself as relatively good looking. Nowhere close to Gerard, though...

He knew this was too fucking good to be true, and walks home in the rain, wet hair sticking to his forehead, dejected, rejected, crestfallen, basically every negative adjective in the fucking dictionary.

After the fateful incident, Gerard disappears.

(Okay, so he isn't in the coffee shop for a few weeks. But from what Frank knows of Gerard, and that isn't exactly much at all, a few weeks without going to the coffee shop would be like going without sleep. Which is, ironically, what the caffeine is there for, really? But never mind.) Frank is positively distraught by this new turn of events, and spent a lot of trying to get over him - but still goes to his usual table a few times a week, just in case Gerard ever comes back. He doesn't.

Frank often laments to Pete about the situation, but Pete is extremely unhelpful, saying that in time, Frank will forget the boy he's in love with. But they made out!? How was Frank supposed to forget a proper long game of tonsil tennis with someone he sort of knew? Had Pete ever been in love?

He’s stupidly lost Gerard’s number. He would ask for it again but obviously that isn’t really an option at present... Shit. Years of pointless dating and one night stands and now he meets someone amazing who happens to feel the same way and that person fucking leaves. He shouldn’t be blaming Gerard right now, but he is. No - he should be blaming Gerard! Okay, so Frank was the one who initiated the kiss, but Gerard definitely reciprocated. Definitely. He was very into the whole thing. So it wasn’t like he didn’t like him that way or anything, because he did. Lindsey had confirmed it anyway.

Two months after the kiss and Frank is still hung up over it, so Pete decides to take matters into his own hands.

“Frank?” He’s invited himself to Frank’s apartment, and finds his best friend watching Netflix in his pyjamas on the couch. Which really isn’t a surprise - that’s kind of Frank’s default state.

“What... I’m busy..”

Pete switches off the television. “I know you’re not busy tonight, or any night anymore for that matter, so I’ve got you on a blind date at 8pm. Which is in…” He checks his watch. “Just one hour from now, so you’d better get moving.”

“Wait. What? Pete! I never asked you to… Goddamnit.”  
“Face it. You’re a loser. I’m helping you out of that phase. It’s for your own good, Frank.”

“Okay, so one, I’m not having a loser phase. I’ve always been like this. And two - thanks for the compliment! God, I thought you were supposed to be my friend.”

“I am. That’s why I’m doing this, and you should be totally grateful, because the guy is like, really hot. Like off the scale hot.” He pauses. “Much hotter than Gerard,” he adds a little too quickly.

“I told you not to mention him!”

“Sorry.. But he’s a whole lot better. Gerard didn’t deserve you.”

“If this guy is so fucking great, why don’t you date him yourself?”

Pete looks comically struck with confusion. “Good question. Because I’m such a good friend and I’m letting you have the hot guy for once.”

“For once! Shut up, I’ve dated lots of hot guys.”

“Sure, Frank. But you should hurry. You wouldn’t want to stand him up or anything.”

Frank thinks back to the way he had felt before Gerard had arrived on that day two months before, and decides that no, he will never stand anyone up ever again. “Okay,” he says. Maybe this would be good. Moving on and all that.

From the moment he walks into the fancy Italian place and sees his date, who is rather obviously waving at him and - good lord - wearing a fedora, Frank knows that this isn’t going to work. The guy just isn’t Frank’s type. He’s got dark blonde hair, the nerdiest glasses that Frank has ever seen, and is wearing a leather jacket that he’s really rather jealous of. Sure he’s attractive, but… He was too… Ugh. Frank can’t put his finger on it. He forces a smile and a wave in reply, and then introduces himself rather shyly as they’re shown to their table.

“So…” Frank already can’t remember him name. It began with a D… or was it a P? No, a P. Wait. Patrick! That was it. “So. Patrick. How do you know Pete?”  
“Oh, me and him have actually known each other for ages, like since high school and everything. We were in a band back then, it was pretty cool… But yeah, he does this a lot. Setting me up with people, I mean.” Patrick looks away for a moment. “Oh no, that sounded bad. Sorry. You’re one of the best guys he’s set me up with, if that’s any compensation for, like, being the tenth?”

“Don’t worry, and thanks,” Frank replies. “I love your hat!” It hurts to lie so blatantly, but conversation has to be made.

“I almost never go out without it, actually. Pete got it for me as a joke, but people say that it suits me, so I just started wearing it a lot, and then it became a thing.”  
Oh god, Frank can’t date a guy who is never without a fedora. He just can’t. That’s one of the unspoken but deeply important laws of his life. He starts formulating plans for how to get out of the situation. Fake illness? No, too easy to be spotted. Fake a death of a family member? But how would he explain that to Pete? Maybe he could just leave. It’s not like him and Patrick are ever going to meet again, unless they get a second date, which at the moment really doesn’t seem very likely.

That’s when Frank sees him across the room. The same trench coat, the same hair, the same absent expression perpetually on his face. Only this time, there’s a platinum blonde woman hanging off his arm and simpering at every word he says. Frank wants to throw up.

The woman goes off to the restroom, leaving Gerard awkwardly standing outside, and Frank spots his chance.

“Um,” he says to Patrick. “I’m really sorry, do you mind if I just go to the bathroom?”

“No problem,” the other man smiles, and Frank escapes. When Gerard sees him, it’s evident that he tries to hide his identity, but Frank’s already on to him.

“Gerard,” he says bluntly. “Haven’t spoken to you in a while. Funny, that.”

Gerard swallows nervously. “Yeah. Um. I have an explanation...”

“I don’t want your explanation. I just want to let you know that -” he thinks back to Pete’s words earlier - “you really don’t deserve me. Okay? I thought you were different, Gerard, I really did. I thought you were better than that, but for whatever reason, you clearly deemed me unacceptable, and then couldn’t even say it to my face.”

“Why do you have to be so…?” Gerard trails off. “Look, you don’t understand, and I’m going to give you the explanation anyway, despite all your ‘I don’t want it’ self-righteous egotistical bullshit. Maybe it’s because I’m not out to anyone as bi! Okay? To anyone. It’s only you and Lindsey. And maybe, my family is so homophobic that they’d fucking disown me if I touched another guy, let alone kiss him! I’ve only been with a guy once before, Frank, and this time I panicked because Mikey was there and I knew that if we didn’t stop, he would see. I knew he would be fine with it himself, and I really didn’t want to leave you, but I also knew that he would tell our parents everything. And I couldn’t have dealt with that. So I’m sorry for, you know, not deserving you and deeming you unacceptable. Now I’ll go back to my date that I really don’t want to be on, and you go back to yours.” He stalks off to his table.

Oh. Oh shit. This was so bad. He’d treated Gerard like utter dirt when really Gerard was just scared to be who he was, and now any prospect of even friendship between them wasn’t going to happen under any circumstances. It clicks in his head why he can’t seem to even attempt to get on with Patrick; it’s because Patrick isn’t Gerard. He needs to get out of here fast and try to apologize if there’s any chance of Gerard even treating him as a respectable human being, which Frank really isn’t anyway.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he says as he makes his way back to him and Patrick’s table. “I’m having a family emergency, my, uh, uncle has just arrived at the hospital and really needs -”

“Oh!” Patrick looks taken aback, but smiles again soon after. “Look, can I have your number? I know this hasn’t been the longest of dates, but I like you, and I’d be interested in seeing you again maybe if - ”

“I really gotta go,” Frank says, and he’s off before a dumbfounded Patrick can get another word in.

Predictably, he can’t find Gerard, given that he doesn’t have his number and has no idea where he lives. He goes home that night and continues his Netflix marathon where he left off with a heavy heart.

At 2am, Frank’s woken by a phone call from an unknown number.

“Mmmph?” he answers, half asleep.

“Frank Iero? This is you, right?” A female voice, one he recognizes, but he can’t quite place.

“Yeah. That’s me. Why?”

“I don’t know if you remember me at all, but this is Lindsey? From the coffee shop? Anyway. I heard what happened with Gerard.”  
Shit. She probably thinks Frank’s an asshat now. “What happened yesterday? Or a month before that?”

“Just what happened in general really… Look, I don’t think you understand how sad Gerard is over the whole thing. Your rant yesterday was really hurtful.”  
“Yeah. I’m really sorry, I didn’t know about the whole homophobic family thing, it just kind of looked like he was ditching me completely. Could I speak to him in person maybe? I’d like to resolve things. You know.”  
“That’s why I’m calling you.” Her tone becomes worried. “I don’t mean to scare you or anything, but Gerard does this thing sometimes where he…”

“Where he what?” Lindsey really isn’t succeeding in not scaring Frank, because Frank is scared as fuck for what’s happening to Gerard right now. Could he have hurt Gerard that much that Gerard would do something as awful as Lindsey is implying? Oh God, he hated himself.

“Where he disappears for a few days, doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, nearly always gets far too drunk, sometimes gets high… It’s usually because he’s either really guilty or sad over something.”  
“Please don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Frank.” She really doesn’t sound sorry. “But I haven’t seen him in two days, he’s not at his apartment or answering his phone, and the last time I spoke to him on Monday was an erratic conversation about you. He seems pretty bad, and I kind of need you to come help me look for him. He’s in one of two places, so it’s not going to be at all hard to find him. I just think it would be better for him to see you. It might help him move on.”

“Gerard wants to move on?” His voice cracks unintentionally.

“He needs to move on,” Lindsey says firmly.

“Yeah. Yeah, totally. So what’s the plan?”  
“The two places he’ll be are either in a bar somewhere, or at this really shit hotel a few miles out of Belleville. Don’t look for him anywhere else, I’ll pick you up from your apartment if you give me your address.”

Frank tells her, and she’s outside his apartment in less than ten minutes, looking furious.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I was a dick and all but - ”

“Get in the car,” she snarls, and Frank’s terrified of her, so does exactly what she says in as meek a way as possible. “You didn’t even apologize to him from what I’ve heard. He’s my best friend, Frank! I know it sounds stupid but we’ve been friends since pre-school and you know, whenever he gets like this I feel like - I feel like his mom. So I know that I’m being really harsh on you. I just want to keep him safe from people who might… Make him get like this again.”  
“I understand. I just -” She pushes on the accelerator.

“You’re going to explain that you were horrible to him, and then you’re going to get out of his life. Got it?”

“Lindsey, I don’t think you’re treating me fairly here. I had no idea that his parents were so conservative. I thought he’d decided I was no good and then not had the courage to actually tell me why he abandoned me halfway through a kiss. And yeah, yesterday I should have spoken to him properly. But I’m not the demon you’re making me out to be, and I don’t think I deserve to be kicked out of his life completely like you’re suggesting.”  
There’s a long silence, until Lindsey sighs, and says, “I’m not saying anything more on the matter.” They don’t talk for the rest of the journey.

When they do find Gerard, it’s not at all where Lindsey expected. He’s leaning on the railings of a bridge staring into space or contemplating something. His hair is in a complete state and his clothes are even worse.

“I’ll deal with this. He can talk with you later,” Lindsey says matter-of-factly, and leaves Frank in the car to watch her coax Gerard into the back seat, comforting him with shushes and hugs. Frank is so jealous of her, which is awful of him, but he is. It’s the terrible feeling when you see the person you love - love? did he love Gerard? - with somebody else, platonically or romantically or whatever, and that person is so much better for them than you could ever be. You can’t hate them for being together, because it’s not the right thing to hate, and to imagine a future in which you’re with the one you love and the other person never met them is to imagine a future wherein the one you love is unhappy. You’re hating their current happiness, and you hate hating it, but you can’t stop. He’s hit by the realization of how hopeless this entire situation is.

After a few minutes, Gerard is in the car and significantly improved, and so Lindsey deems him able to talk to Frank properly. “Gerard, I know you’ll be mad, but I brought Frankie along with me.”

He seems confused. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well -”

“Wait, this isn’t the Frankie you dated last year, is it? I remember her. But.. do I know this guy in the back of the car, or what?”

Gerard… can’t remember him. Gerard can’t remember him. That’s a prospect that hits Frank straight under the ribcage. Why can’t Gerard remember him? Lindsey said that he needed to get out of his life, but… no, she couldn’t have somehow brainwashed him. Maybe it was just short term memory loss from drugs, or alcohol, or a head injury.

“Gerard. You know Frank. You and him went to one of Mikey’s concerts. Oh god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just don’t know who Frank is... Can I go home now?”

“Gerard… yes. Okay, fine, you can go home now. Frank, don’t talk to him. It’s for the best.”

“I…” he begins, but is quickly cut off, and sits in silence staring out of the car window for the rest of the journey.

Frank calls Lindsey every day for two weeks to ask how Gerard’s doing, but she never picks up, so he ends up just leaving it and lamenting over his lost love. Eventually, he moves on, goes on a few more blind dates which never turn into anything serious, gets a job… but it’s like life doesn’t have any meaning anymore; there’s nothing to be excited about. Every day is mediocre. He can’t look forward to seeing Gerard in the coffee shop. He tries not to think of Gerard because whenever he does, his heart automatically skips a beat. He doesn’t imagine conversations with Gerard in his head, and he doesn’t talk about him far too much with Pete, and he doesn’t consider a future with him, because that’s never going to happen.

He doesn’t cry over him or feel sad about him - after four months of being without him, he can’t even properly remember Gerard’s voice anymore. And that’s okay. That’s totally fine. A life without Gerard isn’t even very difficult to live any more. It’s just boring.

It’s boring, until he gets a text.

hey :3 - G

gerard? this is frank. hi. we haven’t spoken in ages. sorry.

i know that you’re frankie. and i wanted to apologize for what happened - G

you don’t have to apologize. are you okay? i know you had some problems a while ago

gerard?

He waits an hour for a reply, and then turns his phone off in frustration. But for some reason, Gerard had remembered him. Why now? Why not several months ago, when Frank had been crying over him every night? Did he even want to be in contact with Gerard again?

The doorbell goes. Frank lethargically gets off the couch to open the door and is met by the exact same man he’d been texting, looking tired and small and vulnerable - not unlike a small puppy that had lost its master.

“Frankie? It is you!” Gerard exclaims, and then blacks out right on Frank’s doorstep, leaving the shorter man to half-carry, half-drag him into his apartment and then lay him onto the couch. Gerard’s scarily light, and he’s out for twenty minutes before showing any signs of stirring. When he does wake, however, he immediately leaps to his feet and pulls Frank into the tightest hug he thinks he’s ever experienced.

“Gerard? Oh my God, you’re okay. Well, so maybe you’re not okay, but...”

“No, I’m great.”

“Really?”

“I mean it. I’m okay, trust me.”

Frank has a sudden urge to kiss him on the cheek, but decides to refrain - he still doesn’t know if Gerard wants them to be a romantic thing, or just friends. Instead, he hugs him again, and then asks, “How long have you known who I am?”  
“Since this morning,” Gerard says softly. “I, um, visited the coffee shop, and I found this hoodie on the back of a chair. And this barista went, ‘I think this belongs to your friend,’ and after a few minutes of trying to work out which friend he meant, it hit me. Mostly because your hoodie really smells like you, and I could remember your scent. Oh, I brought it with me.” Gerard produces Frank’s hoodie from his bag.

“Thanks for keeping it for me. I never thought I was getting that one back.”

“Well thank goodness you accidentally left it in there, Frankie, or I might not have remembered you. I wasn’t even supposed to, you know. The drugs messed my head up and I couldn’t remember anything for a few days. Then I got most of it back, but strangely enough, not anything about you. I still don’t know what happened at that gig with Mikey, or at the restaurant, or what.”

He can’t remember the kiss?! Was that good or bad? But then again, he can’t remember abandoning Frank mid-snog, or having that argument outside the loos, which is definitely a plus.

“Hey, Gerard. So if you can call me Frankie, can I call you something cutesy and ridiculous as well?”

“Be my guest.”  
“Hmm. Okay, I’m going to call you Gee.”

“I like that, actually.”

“Hey, I don’t like being called Frankie! You’re not allowed to like being called Gee.”

“Fine. I hate being called Gee. Happy now?”

“I know you’re pretending, but I can’t be bothered to think up anything else, so Gee it is then.”

Gerard takes up residence on Frank’s couch for a few days, and Frank presumes that Lindsey has no idea, but apart from the fear of Gerard’s angry best friend coming after him, Frank is completely fine with Gerard basically living in Frank’s apartment. Given that he can’t remember the kiss or anything, Frank accepts that this is going to be a friendship from now on, which he’s also completely fine with. Sure he’s a little bit in love with him, but being friends with Gerard is a lot better than having no idea where he is or if he remembers him like he had been before a few weeks ago. The strange thing is that no matter how platonic the relationship seems, Gerard always seems down to cuddle with him on the sofa whilst watching bad movies, and sometimes the sexual tension between them in their awkward silences is really fucking massive.

This continues for quite a while, until one day, Gerard kisses him.

Just like that.

One minute they’re talking about their favorite Pokémon, the next Gerard has his lips pressed against Frank’s. The latter doesn’t have time to process that he needs to respond to the kiss, so stays still in shock until Gerard pulls away and looks down immediately, blushing.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. You don’t like me in that way, do you? It’s just that -” He’s cut off by Frank kissing him back, long and slow and perfect, and when they finally pull away Gerard asks, “How long have you wanted to do that?”

“Since the first day I saw you. But… your family…”

“I don’t care about them. I only care about you. I’m being ridiculous, I know.”

“We’re both ridiculous, and we’re both in love, and would you like to watch a horror movie and make out with me?”

“That seems like a fantastic idea.”  
  


"Frankie..." They're halfway through the movie.

"Mmn?"

"Could we.. I mean... d'you want to.. like... you know." Gerard blushes pink, avoiding Frank’s gaze. It's adorable.

"Depends on what you mean by 'you know'," Frank smirks.

Gerard swats his arm in protest. "You know full well what I mean."

Frank winks at him. "Really? Was it anything like this, perhaps?" And then Frank is kissing Gerard again, unceremoniously tackling him so that he's lying on the sofa with Frank clumsily on top of him. "Oh holy fuck yes, it was like this," says Gerard, breathing heavily. They kiss for a while longer and it becomes passionate and uncontainable, until the rather cringe worthy screams and blood spurts from the horror movie in the background momentarily pauses their previous activity. "My bedroom?" says Gerard, attempting to do what Frank thinks is supposed to be a raised eyebrow but it’s really not working. Though it’s still hot. Gerard Way could probably plaster himself with seaweed and Frank would still consider him to be the hottest man alive.

"Fuck yes," Frank replies with a devilish look in his eyes, and grabs the other boy's hand, half pulling him to the bedroom.

As soon as they've closed the door he's got Gee pinned against the wall, and begins to kiss the shit out of him, eliciting small moans from the back of Gee's throat. "Are we... actually... going to do this...?" Frank manages between kisses.

"Oh fuck, can we? Please? I mean, obviously not if you don't feel like doing it, but..."

"I do. Want to do this, I mean."

"Shall we continue, then?"

"Seems like... a good... plan..." Frank’s hard-on has somehow found itself pressed to Gerard’s thigh, and Gerard is placing small biting kisses onto his neck, and then his knee is in between Gerard’s legs, and wow. This is better than what both of them had been dreaming about for the past several months. They sort of tumble onto the bed together, with Gerard simultaneously trying to undo Frank’s shirt (the buttons aren’t really cooperating, however, which he finds very embarrassing but continues until the other is topless and - oh).

“You’ve… got… so many of them. Everywhere,” says Gerard. Because Frank’s chest is the most intricately tattooed thing that he’s seen in his life, and he loves it. Not to mention that Frank is just really hot even besides all the ink. “I knew you had more of them.”

“I know.” He sounds almost proud. “Do you like them?”

“Do I like them?” Gerard laughs. “Is the Pope a Catholic?”

“No. He’s a member of the Illuminati. Remember?”

“Leave it to you to bring up the Illuminati during sex.” Gerard pauses. “This is sex. We’re about to have sex. Wow.”

Frank laughs. “You’re such a dork, I love it.”

“I love your tattoos.”  
“I knew you were only with me for my body,” Frank says, with a shit-eating grin.  
“Damnit, you caught me. But don’t forget, it’s for your money too.”

“Gerard?”

“Yeah?

“I have a slight problem.”

“And what might that be?”

“I am shirtless and you are, unfortunately, not.”

“I can fix that.”

“You had enough trouble taking my shirt off, I think I might need to help you with your own.”  
“Nah, admit it, you just want to rip my clothes off.”

“Damnit, you caught me,” he smirks, and then proceeds to not exactly rip off Gee’s shirt, but he does manage to undo it with a certain enthusiasm, and then it’s like he can’t take his eyes off him. Gerard is stunning; pale and lean yet also defined and muscular. Frank would describe him as looking like a Greek god but that’s far too cliché for words, so he doesn’t. Instead, he leaves small hickeys along Gerard’s collarbone and then swirls his tongue around one of his nipples, making Gerard’s breath hitch and a gasp of pleasure escape his lips.

“Okay. Okay, that’s…” Gerard starts kissing Frank’s neck, then unbuttons his pants so that he’s only got his boxers on. Frank does the same, and then they both pause to drink the sight of each other in.

"When did you get so hot?"

“You should look at yourself…” Frank manages to say, although it’s pretty difficult forming coherent sentences right now. His hand finds itself playing with the waistband of Gerard’s boxers. "Can I...?" he asks.

"Yes. Please," the other replies, and Frank quickly discards the irritating piece of cloth and grasps hold of Gerard’s cock. Gerard moans at his touch, and Frank revels at the fact that he made Gee sound like that, before starting to stroke him agonizingly slowly. "Wait, stop, I'm going to finish far too quickly if you carry on with that."

"What would you have me do next, then?" he purrs into Gerard’s ear.

"You want me to say it? Out loud? Frank!" Gee swats him on the arm playfully. "Okay, fine. I'd very much like you to fuck me," he says as if he is asking Frank to pass him the milk.

"Is that so?" Frank replies mischievously.

"Yes. And I'd like it if you hurried things along."

“Um. As you wish. Have you got…”

“Top draw,” Gerard says, and Frank searches in the draw before finding some lube and a condom. He coats his fingers and pushes one digit into him tentatively, adding a second and finally third. Gerard is bucking his hips and moaning whorishly, and goddamnit, Frank has never been attracted to someone as much as he is to Gerard right now.

“You ready?” Frank asks, and receives a nod of approval. He removes his fingers, prompting a small noise of protest from Gerard, but wastes no time in lining himself up with Gerard’s entrance and then pushing inside him ever so slowly. Frank’s breath hitches with the feeling, but then there’s a tiny wince from Gerard, and he freezes, terrified of hurting him. He’d hate to be hurting him, especially as the feeling of Gerard around him is tight, warm and fucking perfect, and Frank’s probably the one getting all of the pleasure right now.

“I can stop,” he says, worried that Gerard’s feeling pressured to continue when he doesn’t want to or something.

“Please don’t,” Gerard smirks beneath him, a teasing look in his eyes, and Frank pulls out slightly only to thrust in again deeper and harder than before. Gerard’s pupils are full blown and dark with lust as he mewls Frank’s name, his hands fisting and anchoring themselves in the bedsheets as Frank finds the sweet spot inside him. He’s letting out a string of uncontrollable moans and curses with a sweet femininity about them that’s turning Frank on all the more.

A few minutes later and Gerard’s the first one to come with a small whimper. Frank is quick to follow, and they both collapse onto the bed together, exhausted.

“Well,” Gerard says after several minutes of silent post-coital cuddling, “that was fun.”  
“Yeah,” Frank breathes. “Yeah, that was.”

The next day, they fuck a grand total of seven times and basically do not leave the bed once until seven pm, when Lindsey shows up and has a proper shouting match with Gerard while Frank stands between the two of them awkwardly.

“Gerard? Care to explain why you haven’t talked to me in eight weeks?”

“Lindsey, I don’t know what your whole deal against Frank is, but… I love him, all right? I know you just want the best for me, but despite whatever happened before with me and him… I just want to be with him. And I’d like it very much if you were cool with that.”

“Oh no. I am cool with that, don’t worry. I just, fuck, I missed you! I haven’t spoken to you in so long and…”

“Wait, wait, you’re cool with me and Frank?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t before. But, like you said, I only want the best for you. And I hate to admit it, but you guys are perfect together.”

**  
-fin-**

**Author's Note:**

> If you comment then I'll probably fall in love with you


End file.
